Whoosh
by Microno
Summary: What happens when the criminal mastermind Moriarty bends the Doctor to his will in order to kill two of the people he hates most?


Whoosh. Whoosh. The sound of the TARDIS materialising, that was all Dean and Sam heard as they stood in the foyer. The floor adorned with a centered ring of black and triangles of equal shape scattered in circular patterns. They stared at the broken glass that littered the ground just as the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and fell face first onto the ground. Sam, curious and worried, took a step forward.  
"Stop Sammy, you don't know if he can be trusted."

Sam pursed his lips, breathing out a deep breath of frustration as he stood his ground. He couldn't lose Dean's trust, not again, not after all they'd been through. He still felt a pang of regret at the thought of his brother returning from Purgatory, his soul bruised and bleeding. He hadn't looked for him, he hadn't out of selfishness and there wasn't a day that would go by without waking up to see Dean's eyes searching for a soul to latch on to. Those eyes haunted his nights and every morning he'd wake up, sweaty and panting.

Dean, wasn't thinking about that at that very moment, he was trying to figure out how to make sure Sam wouldn't end up killing himself but he knew all hell would break loose soon. This was going to end badly and he needed to end it before someone else did it for him.

At that moment the Doctor stirred and picked himself up, at least as far as his limbs would allow. His palms against miniscule fragments of glass. The TARDIS, sensing danger, shifted out of sync with time. A figure stood behind the Winchesters, staring intenly with cautious curiosity and fear for another man in his eyes. John tensed, "Doctor?"

The Doctor's eyes turned towards John. "I am not the Doctor", his body hissed but the Winchesters knew it wasn't the Doctor speaking, it was a demon. How did they know? He eyes were as black as the heart of Sauron. Dean, always knew how to bring in a reference to pop culture and unbeknownst to him this would be how he'd retell this particular incident in the future.

As soon as Dean realised that a demon had possessed the Doctor a part of his subconcious mind spoke one word against his will "Cas" and within seconds a confused Castiel popped into existence several metres away from the demon and Dean. Sherlock stood on the second floor overlooking the, now, five individuals with cold, curious eyes. He had to figure out what was going on but there was a piece of the puzzle missing, someone wasn't there and they needed to be but it wasn't time yet. How ironic that it was the wrong time for the Time Lord to be there.

Dean spoke with cutting sarcasm in his voice. "A demon possessing an alien. Great. Just what we needed right Sammy?"

The Time Lord rose. (Or should it be referred to as his body rather than him?) At that moment a panting Bobby burst in through the oak doors, a shotgun in one hand and a blade in the other.

"What, in the name of hell, are you idjits up to this time!" Not a moment later, realising the enormity of what was happening before his eyes, he took on a look of confusion, awe and fear. The hand that held his shotgun shook slightly as his mind slowly registered this but he wasn't going to let some sorry ass bunch of hunter wannabes stop him from doing his job.

"Evening, Crowley", the Doctor spoke as he raised an arm with a gun pointing straight into the corner of everyones' vision. At this point Bobby raised his gun, tense but unwavering and pointed it at the Doctor. Sherlock, seeing the interesting turn of events started contemplating whether or not his brother had set this up as a distraction but then quickly ruled that out since he hadn't spoken to his brother in a very long time and no doubt John was making sure that Mycroft wasn't aware of any of his actions these passed few months. Funny that he'd think John would sell him out. Curious indeed.

Every face turned to look at where the Doctor's gun was pointing and saw Crowley who was still wearing the same suit he'd been wearing for the past several years. They'd killed his tailor and now this had become his most priceless possession, not that he'd let the Winchesters' onto that, no need to lose another suit now right? As he thought this Bobby cringed, although no one saw this, at the thought of how he'd had to kiss Crowley. He'd rather cut Crowley's head off than do that again but he would for the boys, his boys.

Sherlock guffawed as he pieced everything together. It was Moriarty that had given him and John the lead to this place. He'd set them up using an anonymous number. Why? He loves putting on a show and what better way to do it than to have a possessed Time Lord kill the King of Hell. Fantastic! He smiled and shook his head as though trying to clear his eyes and out loud, he sighed "Moriarty sent the Lord of Time to kill the King of Hell. Neat."

*Flashback*

Moriarty stood on the precipice of a tall building in London, the London Eye and Big Ben behind him. He stood there waiting for someone. He knew who it was, it was Crowley. This was his crowning moment or so he thought. He'd summoned the King of Hell and he'd outwit him too. How lovely he thought.

A man in a suit started towards the man standing on the edge, this was Crowley, the King of Hell and he was going to make this stupid man pay for setting the Winchesters' onto him. As he strode towards the man he felt a tug pull him back just as he was a metre away from satisfying his blood thirst. His grimace fell and, if he'd had a heart it would've sank. He was trapped in a demos trap with no way out. The King of Hell outsmarted by a lowly fool, what a dissatisfying way to be caught. He sighed without taking his eyes off the other man.

Moriarty stepped down and turned around to face this so-called King of Hell. He laughed a dark twisted but hearty laugh that would've made anyone cringe yet Crowley smiled. He was a fool for liking this man but he could see the potential in him. Oh, how he wished he could've used his intellect.

"My name's Moriarty. It's surprising a twisted godly force couldn't track me down. I thought it would've been more challenging but this was easier than baiting Sherlock."

"What do you want Moriarty?" Crowley's voice sounded like the calm amidst a storm, temporary and misleading.

"I want you to make sure Sherlock is on that rooftop, do you understand me? Make sure he's there and that he jumps off."

"There is a way of making deals, I hope you realise that. Let me out and I'll make you a deal."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to kiss you. I could leave you in that cage forever."

"But you'd never have what you wanted would you? Ah see? That's exactly why you need me. Now let me out and we'll make a deal. I'll even add another ten years to our agreement, you'll live twenty rather than ten years before I collect your soul. Rather fair don't you think?"

"Thirty. Thirty years should be enough time to thwart you and make sure you can't take my soul."

"We have a deal."

Moriarty stepped forward and using a gun shot the demons trap right where the ring closed. Crowley felt the chains binding him lift from his demonic spirit and he took in a relaxed breath.

"I'm a man of my word. If you can stop me in the next thirty years you can keep your soul, if not then it's mine."

"Fine, fine. I'm bored so let's just get this over with."

At that Moriarty covered his mouth with one hand stifling a yawn and closed the distance between him and Crowley. He was going to have to kiss him but no matter, Sherlock was the one that must fall and he must fall thinking he was his own undoing. This part was vital to his plan that he knew. He kissed Crowley and thought of kittens at the same time. He thought how funny it woud be if he drew kittens with kittens blood. Oh how much fun it would be to see Sherlock try to overcome that hurdle of understanding him.

At that Crowley vanished leaving Moriarty with a note in his hand. A note that had Sherlock's address on it written in the handwriting of someone a man named John Watson would trust. He giggled with glee.

*Present day*

"Jim sends his love."

At that Crowley turned his head and he realised that he'd made a fatal mistake in sealing that deal. Fear overtook his expression.

"Who are you?" Crowley inquired. If it was going to be his last breath at least he could die knowing who had killed him with the Colt.

"Meg" escaped the lips of the Doctor as the Colt fired. Sherlock had already left by that time but John, Bobby, Sam and Dean stood there with shock as Crowley escaped in a cloud of blood red right before the bullet struck between his body's eyes.


End file.
